


The Nightgown

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossdressing, First Time, Genderfluid Character, Other, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Secret Marriage, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becky arranged the hem of her nightgown more carefully around her knees as she sat, waiting, demure, on the edge of their narrow bed, their marriage bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightgown

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers, I'm pretty nervous about this one. Please let me know what you think! I hope you like it. 
> 
> This story portrays Bucky as a genderfluid character with limited dysphoria. The greatest respect is intended.

Becky arranged the hem of her nightgown more carefully around her knees as she sat, waiting, demure, on the edge of their narrow bed, their marriage bed.  
  
She tried to keep herself calm, but her heart was pounding so hard she was sure Steve would be able to see the shudders behind her ribs right through the thin white fabric.  
  
She reached up to run her fingers one more time through her hair.  It was still too short, but it was soft and clean and Steve always said it looked good that way, hanging loose across her forehead.  Beautiful blue eyes, Steve always said.  
  
A soft smile curved her lips.  _Steve_.  
  
A flush colored her face and rushed through her body, warming her from head to toe.  Kneeling side by side, they had made their vows.  The church echoed with silence all around them, stained glass colors tinting the stone, holy air vibrating with the presence of saints and angels.    
  
_For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, till death do us part._  
  
Becky meant every word of it, voice low and fervent, for Steve’s ears only — smiling as she leaned closer to his good ear, and he smiled back.    
  
_Mrs. Steven G. Rogers (Rebecca)_ — she had imagined it so many times.  
  
She twisted the thin gold band on her finger, aching with joy at its promise of forever.  From this moment forward, she and Steve were married.  Soon Steve would walk through that door, and lay Becky back, and make her his own, two souls, two bodies made one.  
  
As if thinking made it real, Steve opened the door.  His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Becky in her nightgown.  They were poor, and Becky hadn’t had a fancy wedding dress, but this nightgown had been folded away in tissue paper for ages, saved for just the right moment.  It wasn’t that much — just a simple white gown with lace around the edges, but it fit her perfectly.  It made her look beautiful, she hoped — she wanted so much to be pretty for Steve on this most sacred of nights.    
  
A few steps took Steve across the tiny room.  He laid his strong hands tenderly around Becky’s face and brought her lips to his.  “I love you,” he whispered.  “I’ve always loved you, so much.”  
  
“I love you too, Stevie,” she answered.  His cold hands felt so good on her flushed face.  “I’m yours now, really yours.”  
  
“Our wedding night,” Steve said, shaking his head.  “Tell me I’m not dreaming — tell me it’s real.”    
  
“It’s real, Stevie,” Becky said. “Now no more waiting.  Make me yours forever.”  
  
Becky lay back, the thin gown soft around her hips.  Steve touched her reverently, stroking her body through the white nightgown.    
  
“You look so beautiful,” he said.  “I wanna remember this forever.”  
  
“Me too,” Becky said.  “Nothing could make me forget.”  
  
“I been wanting you so long,” Steve murmured, kissing her again.  He lay down beside her, gentle with his hands, tender, but possessive, just the way she’d longed for, the one man she’d given the right to touch her like that. Steve wasn’t a big man, he had his weaknesses, but he was strong where it mattered.  He was the best man she’d ever known, and Becky was fervently thankful they’d made it together to this night — pledging themselves to each other before God, no matter what fortune might bring.    
  
“You’re wet for me already,” Steve whispered, and Becky shivered.  The cold air of the room, Steve’s sure, capable touch, the warmth of his lips on her skin, everything was perfect.    
  
In the quiet night the world held its breath as Becky exhaled, and Steve sank inside her for the first time.  It hurt, but she didn’t care — she was ready, so ready, ready to belong to Steve for the rest of their lives.  
  
“Oh,” he breathed, struggling to regain his composure, settling his weight between her thighs. “Oh, sweetheart - it feels so good.”  
  
“Yes,” Becky breathed, wanting him deeper, wanting him so much, for ever and for ever, deep inside her where he could never slip away from her greedy grasp.  
  
Steve thrust deep, and something inside her caught fire in a way she’d never felt before.  Steve’s mouth, nibbling down her neck and across her collarbone — Steve’s strong hands, holding back one of her knees to seat himself more deeply — Steve’s teeth, fierce and sharp on her nipple — everything was so good; she opened her body to her husband and her mind to every sense, searing each detail deep into her memory as she took him, his clever fingers stroking her just the right way until the pleasure overwhelmed her, clenching around him, giving it up, giving it all up to Steve, feeling him empty himself inside her, his little hitches of breath, the familiar wheeze at the bottom of every exhale.    
  
“I love you, Steve, so much,” she said, wrapping him up in her arms, pulling his head to rest on her shoulder.    
  
“I love you too,” he said, kissing her cheek as his eyes fluttered closed.    
  
In the morning she got up before the first light of dawn, pulled off the nightgown, and washed with cold water.  The rough washcloth pulled at her skin, trying to erase the traces of the night before, but she knew they had sunk all the way down into her soul.    
  
She lathered up and shaved, close as she could with cold water, Steve’s father’s pearl-handled razor sharp as death against her skin.  Steve barely shaved his light blond whiskers more than once or twice a week, but that was the irony, not to mention how she was nearly twice his size.  The truth was inside them, and they both knew it, and that was what mattered.    
  
She pulled on her undershorts, work shirt, denim trousers, heavy boots.  Dipping her comb in pomade, she ran it through her hair, smoothing it back.  Bucky looked back at her from the mirror, and she shot him a wink.  He was a chore sometimes, but he was a part of her, the part that went out and loaded crates on the docks and brought home money and drank and danced and showed the dames a good time, keeping her and Stevie safe from suspicious eyes.  
  
She leaned over Steve and kissed him good morning.    
  
“Love you, Buck,” he muttered sleepily.  
  
“Love you too,” she smiled.    
  
Shutting the door softly behind her, she squared her broad shoulders and went out into the day, Bucky Barnes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! I am open to critique as well. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Your kudos, comments, and support means so much to me!
> 
> * * * \o/ This is work number 300 for me on AO3!!! \o/ * * * 
> 
> (I feel like I should be yelling SPAAAARRRTAAAAAAA!)


End file.
